


Dead or Lie

by kyochisas



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Afterlife, Angst?, F/F, In the big fuckoff movie theatre, like Lit, thanks dr3 for making the misplaced AU canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyochisas/pseuds/kyochisas
Summary: They had a lot more in common than you would think.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I DID IT. I'VE HAD THIS SITTING GATHERING DUST FOR MONTHS. PLEASE VALIDATE ME

It was hard to process the things on the big screen at the back of the room.

None of the 10 students, nor the headmaster who seemed to be babysitting them, sat within that theatre in nirvana knew what was happening exactly. All they could grasp was that the second killing game had begun, and they would be getting a lot more residents soon enough. Though, they all hoped deep down all the children in that game would make it out alive.

Sayaka Maizono was one of those people who hoped that more than anything else. Perhaps that's why she reacted the way she did, when the Ultimate Imposter stumbled into their doors, with their chest like a human pincushion. She was scared, fretting like a mother over her child, checking their temperature and trying to lift them back to their feet after they collapsed - though, after realising her lack of strength, she decided it best to request Mondo’s help in moving them to the seats in the corner.

“Maizono-san,” a quiet voice spoke to her after the whole ordeal, from just behind, making it sound like velvet. Maizono didn't look back, instead focusing on the Imposter who was beginning to come back around again. “Are you alright?”  
“...Yeah. I’m alright, Ikusaba-san.”  
Though her face was hidden, Mukuro frowned in doubt, and leant closer, almost resting her head on the idol’s shoulder. “Are you sure? You're rather pale.”  
“I’m… just shocked.”  
“I think all of us are.”  
She nodded slowly in agreement, still not looking back as she tried to find the soldier's hand to intertwine in her own for comfort. “I… why did this have to happen again? Enoshima-san… she's dead, isn't she? So how-”  
“Junko-chan always had her ways. She’s like a cockroach, in that regard.”  
And Mukuro would know that better than anyone, Maizono mused to herself. And on that thought, she finally looked back, a shaky smile forming on her doll-like features. “Ikusaba-san… are they investigating?”  
“From what I can see on the screen, yes. And they're almost done.”  
“So the trials are back?”  
“Yes.”  
“And the motive?”  
“...Their memories have been wiped, so Junko-ch- ...Monokuma offered them as an incentive to kill.”  
Maizono shivered at the thought, before shaking her head. “Just like us…”  
“Of course. All of this is just another round of the killing game.” She paused, squeezing Maizono’s hand tighter to remind her she was still there, a small smile forming on her features, one as reassuring as she could muster. “But it’s alright. Things won’t be like they were when we first got here, will they?”  
“I hope not… I don’t want them to go through the same hell we did… with the regret, and the revenge, and the anger…” Her eyes trailed over to the redhead, and she shivered as she saw his hand, thrown over the back of his chair carelessly, bandaged and with, even months later, blood seeping to the surface. His face was much the same, bruised and beaten and stitched, with more than a dozen teeth missing. He was a mess, and it was her fault for making a big mistake-  
No. It wasn’t going to be like that.  
It was never going to be like that again.

The man (or at least, that's the gender their current appearance gave off) was much nicer than the Togami they knew, though the self-belief and faith in themselves was still there. Maizono even found herself giggling along with them, though that quickly stopped when she curled over slightly when the pain from the multiple puncture wounds that littered their chest. Perhaps she was even finding comfort in them, knowing he was the first kill.  
“Togami-kun… if I’m allowed to call you that,” she almost whispered, resting her hands on her lap. “Might I… ask a question?”  
“Hm?” The Imposter looked up slightly, beckoning him to go on with a simple, powerful look. They were good in their role.  
“Do you know who did this to you?”  
“...I do not.”  
Maizono felt her heart drop a little. This would make things a little harder… it was bad enough watching her trial with just the headmaster and Mukuro to keep her company, and knowing what the result would be… but this student knew no one, and had no idea who did this to them. It was sad, really. “Oh… sorry.”  
“No need to apologise, Maizono. It's quite alright.” The hand they placed on her shoulder almost took up the entire surface area, but she didn’t mind all too much.  
“...Are you sure?”  
“Of course. But… one request.”  
“Yes, of course. Anything.” Somehow, she felt as if she owed him at least something - they were connected by the times they died, so maybe that was it.  
“Whoever is the culprit… do not hurt them.” The Imposter paused, seeming to part from their impersonation of Togami (he would never show this much mercy for his demise) for a moment to deliver their next line; “They were afraid. That much I can be sure of. They don’t deserve persecution for a simple emotional reflex… even if it meant the death of their leader.”  
The idol paused and analysed the plump face that stared back at her for a moment, before standing to her feet and holding their hand in pace with her own. She nodded firmly. “...Of course, Togami-kun. I couldn’t hurt anyone anyways.”  
Not again, she thought to herself.

That execution was one of the worst she had seen.

Of course, that could have been because it had been such a long time. The first killing game felt like years ago, but still so little time ago. The familiar churning of sickness and disgust in her stomach had only brought back those memories. As the tape rolled and the cinema screen lit up with a beautifully bright orange, Maizono recoiled in her seat, burying her head into the shoulder of the solider sitting beside her, with her eyes squeezed shut. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, and the anxiety and shock stuck to the walls of her stomach and made her want to vomit. The idol felt Mukuro’s arms wrap tightly around her for comfort, and for a moment, she almost felt at ease.

The executed’s name was Teruteru Hanamura, the SHSL Cook of Class 77. Maizono had faint memories of the boy from her days at school - you could say he was a big fan of hers - and judging from the behaviour he had exhibited on screen, she had even audibly groaned, albeit a quiet groan. She had assumed that he was going to be a pain to deal with if (or when) he got to the afterlife. But the trial… as sickening as it was, as horrible as it made her feel… changed that rather quickly. Once the short boy, his skin crusty and cracked from heat, entered the theatre (while panting like a dog - it was understandable he was dehydrated), he passed out, and was put under extensive care, much like all the other executed students. Once he woke up, however, he was nothing like the pervert many had assumed he was going to be. That Teruteru seemed to have died in the trial room he screamed and cried in. Now, he was a scared and tearful puppy, unable to tolerate human contact.

“Ikusaba-san,” Maizono whispered, approaching the soldier, who was watching the film that broadcasted the second killing game from the viewing room. “Have you seen Hanamura-kun anywhere?”  
“Hm? No, not since he woke up… why?”  
“I want to try helping him-”  
“Maizono-san, not to be rude, but… he can barely stand in the presence of anyone without running away like a dog between his legs. How can you help a case like that?”  
“I don’t know, I just…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I have to. I’m going to go find him.”  
And with that, she turned on her heels and headed down the stairs, scouting out every section of the afterlife theatre to find the cook (or chef, as he preferred).

She eventually did find him - or rather, heard him - after hours of searching between the rows. Teruteru remained in the shadows of the left column of chairs, between aisles A and B right next to the screen, presumably with his knees curled into his chest, with the only indication of his presence being the quiet sniffling he gave out as he cried, and the soft fizzing as his tears evaporated against his skin. Maizono frowned to herself, doing her best to remain quiet as she took a few steps forward, trying to see him but to no avail. She sighed and leant back, thinking to herself for a moment before her face lit up with a smile. It had been a while since she had sung, hadn’t it? People had always said her voice was soothing… Naegi and Kuwata especially. The idol smiled a little and cleared her throat.

She was halfway through the song when she opened her eyes again, not noticing the beady, tearful iris’ staring back at her in the darkness. Maybe she was just so lost in the music she hadn’t noticed earlier, but upon seeing that, she smiled and halted her melody.  
“...Hello, Hanamura-kun.”  
He seemed to recoil at the sound of his own name. Maizono gritted her teeth slightly; this was so close yet so far. As if she was trying to not scare away a stray cat in the middle of the street, Maizono got down to as low of a level as she could, smiling softly and speaking in a tone and volume to match.  
“Shh… it’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now, OK?”  
The chef didn’t reply, he only recoiled more, almost shaking out of fear. Maizono held her hand out in response, remaining low and calm.  
“It’s alright… I’m just someone who wants to help.” She paused, waiting for him to move either towards her or away from her, neither of which he did. Instead, he seemed frozen in fear. So she continued. “...Hey, am I allowed to get personal?”  
Teruteru stared at her. Maizono took that as a yes, sitting down at the mouth of the gap in the chair, using her calves as a cushion and tucking her feet under her skirt.  
“...We saw a lot, you know. Of that game.” She paused to watch him flinch. “You guys… were hurt. A lot.You were manipulated and lied to by that black and white bear. And now you’re scared. ...You wanted to see your mom again, didn’t you? Hehe… she sounds lovely if you were that desperate.”  
Her laugh echoed slightly.  
“I… I did the same as you. I killed - no, I tried to. I didn’t get to do it - to see my band again… you remember us, don’t you? The five of us, we all… were the best idol group in Japan. And even if we weren’t, that’s what they were to me.” The smile on her face was bittersweets, as Maizono looked down at her hands that were resting on her skirt. “God, I can still feel how must I missed them then, I can't imagine what you must have felt like. They were like family to me, but your mom… she IS your family.”  
She paused for a moment, lingering on the thought of the four girls who brung her so much hope for a second too long. Before she could brush them away, her eyes began to well up with tears, her vision misting until she could only feel the teardrops hitting the back of her screwed up hands.  
She only heard the shuffling in front of her, and she only felt the stubby, shaking arms wrap around her (he was still toasty, like fresh takoyaki).  
Maizono laughed a little, as she felt Teruteru rest his head on her shoulder and hug her tighter. “Hanamura-kun…”  
“M-Maizono-san…” His accent was thick, and his voice was shaky, but he still spoke. “C-can you s-s-sing for l-lil’ ol’ me a-again? Ple-ease?”  
She sniffled, before giggling and nodding weakly. “...Of course. Listen closely now.”  
The idol paused to suck in a breath and calm down before she returned to her earlier tune.

When someone had finally had their way down that side of the seats - Leon Kuwata, namely - the sight there was an odd one. Like a mother to her crying child, Maizono hugged the small chef, softly singing sweet lullabies to him as he slept. Leon soon picked up his upperclassman in his arms and rested him gently on the seats, letting him use his jacket as a blanket.


End file.
